One thing I do worry about here in Rumbai Camp is the ability to lose yourself in a very friendly and very comfortable version of the western world. That said, I'm not sure I'd be able to live here with as much aplomb if I didn't have such a deeply rooted support structure. There are good friends, grey market liquor, an American school, familiar foods (we found lentils, cannellini beans, and prunes at LuckyMart yesterday AND there are also crazy expensive turkeys flown in from Jakarta so the American contingent can have it's Thanksgiving fix,) very comfortable (air conditioned) homes, and 110 plugs. (You laugh? 110 plugs are magical, especially after you blow up your coffee maker by attempting to plug it in a 220.) It is an incredible comfort zone, buffer zone, between us and the Indonesian world we live in.
That said, there are fairly massive cultural challenges even within this community. I've heard myself express irritation and impatience in ways that I really hoped to avoid. I've had a really hard time adapting to new faces and names and figuring out which goes with which. I've tried to bite my husband when he attempts to engage me in conversational Bahasa. Also? There is a civet cat living in my attic and the pest control guys come by a few times a week, take away a few mice, and laugh at my inability to cope with such tiny pests (Civet cats are as big as a fat raccoon, just FYI.) I guess I ought to just name the creature, consider him a permanent resident "pet" and move on.
Pete and I have a continuing conversation about not taking this move for granted and making sure we take advantage of and fully appreciate the differences. As many of you saw, Pete was invited to dance with his Indonesian work team at a cultural event last Saturday. He had serious dance practices leading up to it, and he had a traditional costume made and given to him. It included a pretty awesome turban. (Together with his Mo-vember mustache, he looked quite Turkish/Middle Eastern/French/Absurdly Tall Indonesian.)
With the girls, absorbing a foreign culture often boils down to this paradigm: "No, it's not weird, it's different. It is interesting. Let's find out more about it." If our kids come home with anything, I hope it is that. An ability to keep their minds open to new ideas and experiences, and an interest in finding out more about the world around them. As far as this specific move goes, Clara is full of wonder over the dancers and their amazing and beautiful costumes. Nora is thrilled with the jungle and wildlife.
And me? I'm eager to truly speak Bahasa. I'm learning, and already have a lot of the important kitchen words down. I've been working out lots of new ingredients, was thrilled when I found galangal (similar to ginger but smells more flowery.) I'd come across it in America, but only in dried form. I also found a chile and tamarind sambal today that I'm eager to work on - Ibu Lena laughed and looked at me speculatively and said one word: "Spicy!" But she's learned that we are game and willing to try.
Ibu Lena and I spent an awesome day in the kitchen today boiling down coconut oil. Her mother taught her to do it, and today she taught me. You take the coconut meat and grate it, add a little water and then boil for a couple of hours. The oil will rise to the surface..... it's a cool process and smells heavenly. The process helped me feel a real connection to this country and perhaps a deeper understanding of an Indonesian kitchen.
And so, obviously, we are having pizza for dinner......
